


Room

by HeatherGiesbrecht



Category: Crimson Peak (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Aristocrats - Free Form, Awkwardness, Bars and Pubs, Being Lost, Complete, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Developing Relationship, Eating, Explicit Language, First Times, Hand Jobs, Homophobic Language, M/M, Masturbation, Non-Canonical Pairing, One Shot, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Crimson Peak, Rain, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Slash, Sleep, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 05:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5151644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeatherGiesbrecht/pseuds/HeatherGiesbrecht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the day he'd had sharing a room with the Englishman should've been easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Room

Alan was not normally a nervous man, yet as he waited rain-drenched in the darkness of a London side street, he was. His day had not been kind to him, he had barely passed an exam because of distraction and now he'd lost his fellows in the rain. Raggedly dressed people and prostitutes wandered past him, this was not the place to be finely dressed. Pressed against the wall out of the glare of a gas lamp, he eyed them hoping to see someone he recognized or a police man to ask for directions, at least. However, it was not a police man, but rather a handsome looking couple sheltered under umbrellas that stopped beside him.

The man wore a black top hat, frock coat, green waist-coat and a grey silk cravat while the woman wore a dark blue bustle dress and veiled hat. Their clothes were worn, a few years out of date but not near so much as the others that passed them by. There was also an air about them that he for the life of him couldn't place. Just what it was that was so appealing of a smooth English accent and even silkier voice he would never fully comprehend. "I say, my dear man, you look quite lost."

Alan found himself laughing, "I, one could say that, I am indeed quite lost. I'm Alan, Alan McMichael. You wouldn't happen to know a good place to stay for the night would you, sir ?"

A brief head dip as the Englishman responded, "Sir Thomas and Lucille Sharpe, and yes, I would. A few streets down is the Twin Swans Pub, Lucille and I were heading there now actually, if you wish to follow us, Mr. McMichael."

Oh, aristocracy, that was it. He bowed briefly then kissed Lady Lucille's hand. "You're being quite generous the both of you, thank you, Sir Thomas. I will quite gladly follow someone who knows where they are going."

What seemed a smile flitted over Thomas's lips, "Lucille, be good and move over a smidgen, would you ?"

He moved to walk beside Lucille, noticing that her eyes held coldness for those around them. Even for those whose clothing was falling apart. One good thing about being with the Sharpes though was that the group of pickpockets that had taken to following him scurried away quite quickly. Absently, he started drifting from under the umbrella's protection to, of course, become further dowsed with rain.

Awareness newly raised he noticed what he'd not before, though Lucille was Lady Sharpe she did not have a ring on her ring finger. Queer impulse had him drifting behind Thomas to check those slim fingers again, there was none. There was however a silver ring on Thomas's middle finger, the Sharpe family ring most likely. His gaze drifted from fingers to arms and waists to...ah, backsides and legs. No matter that it was rather quite...nice he supposed for a backside, it was utterly improper and he forced himself to move back in-step with Lucille.

When they'd walked in silence for a bit longer he asked, "Sir Thomas, forgive me if I speak wrongly, but you would be Baronet of some place would you not ? I notice that yourself and Her Ladyship are not married."

"Baronet of Harding Poole, to be exacting. As for that, married ?" Thomas laughed and exchanged a look with Lucille, "No, good Heavens, no, Lucille is my sister."

A mortified flush crawled up his cheeks, "Oh, I...I, my sincerest apologies, I can't quite see the resemblance what with the weather we're having." To save himself from further embarrassment he fell quiet for the rest of the trip. Eventually, a sign of two swans with entwined necks appeared on a building in the distance. The rain started to subside as Lucille pushed open the Twin Swans's door spilling warmth and firelight across them. Feeling started returning to his fingers as he walked inside with a shiver. Not knowing what else to do he followed the aristocrats as they wound their way through the dark oak tables, chairs and benches to the bar.

Thomas waved a hand to the black haired and mustached bar keeper, "Gunther, how many rooms have you left ?"

Gunther bustled over while wiping down a mug, "With this weather ? Only two, I'm afraid, Sir Thomas."

Since the English were so reserved when it came to touch it shocked him to hear Thomas say, "Mr. McMichael and I can share a room. You don't mind, do you ?"

After the day he'd had, surely, sharing a room with the Englishman should've been easy. "I, no, no, I, erm...wouldn't mind." Of course, it could not simply be so easy.

Another thing he hadn't gotten used to in his years here were their queerly timed enthusiasms. Thomas exclaimed, "Wonderful, just wonderful ! We'll take both rooms and three bowls of stew, if you please."

"Right away, Sir Thomas, sir."

When they had sat down at a table he was surprised to see how many shadows had hidden Thomas's eyes as the man took his hat off. They were near the same shade of sapphire as Lucille's dress, innocent, yet oddly piercing at the same. Really, and it should have horrified him to think so, Sir Thomas was quite handsome on his lonesome. Pale lips thinned briefly as those eyes drifted over him, "You should've been frozen half to death by morning had we not found you, I think."

"I know, hmm, my little sister Eunice would be so disappointed. I think mainly because then I could not listen to her inane topics anymore."

Lucille spoke for the first time, "You have a sister ? Please, do tell."

So, he told them about Eunice, Mother, their standing in New York etc. It wasn't long after that the bowls of fresh stew and some mugs of ale were delivered to the table. They started eating and Thomas questioned him about what an American was doing in fair London, "Studying to be an ophthalmologist." and so on and so forth. Absently, he arranged a meeting for Mother and Eunice with the Sharpes. His stomach and limbs were so warmed when he'd finished that he was near falling asleep at the table.

Actually, he did as once he woke to the black haired man leaning over him. "McMichael, McMichael ? Come on, old thing, a bed's a far better place to sleep than a table and far softer too."

For some reason, his sleep-addled mind found that hilarious, "You look older than me so how can I be, "Old thing." when you are clearly the elder ?"

"Humph, well, I'm not that much older than you I should think. Now, get up, I'm not carrying you to bed."

Almost his mind asked, "What if I want you to ?" before he shut the thought down. Dutifully, he followed Thomas to what he supposed was their room, Room 7. The walls were beige, the blanket and sheets a creamy white and a fire blazed in the fireplace. He without thinking stripped to his pants before crawling into the water-bottle warmed bed. His eyes started drifting shut until the bed suddenly dipped and he was wide awake again.

Sir Thomas almost sounded amused as he said, "You do know that I am not going to bite if it gets cold, don't you ?"

Unconsciously, he looked over his shoulder. Thomas's back was all lithe muscle not an ounce of fat could have hid under that smooth pale skin. "Of course, that would be ridiculous if you would. You're a man, not an animal."

He turned back to stare into the flames, tugging the blanket up as he tried to ignore the other man. What seemed a second later, Thomas had lain down and drifted asleep. How he wished it would be so easy in coming to him, eyes firmly closed, he tossed and turned. What was he supposed to think when, all his life, Mother had told him that if he had to sleep beside a man than he was no man at all. That whether unwilling or not if he did it too often he would turn into a faggot. Somehow, he managed to fall asleep and when he awoke he had a time of trying to remember why there should be a heavy warmth against his back, not to mention a certain...firmness lower on.

Not hearing the fire, he opened his eyes to realize that it had gone out sometime during the night. Quite uncomfortable, he whispered, "S-Sir Thomas, Sir Thomas ? Please, tell me you're asleep." A soft moan against his hair, the man's fingers scraped across his abdominals and he couldn't suppress a delighted shudder. Good God, just one night and he was already turning into a faggot. Then again, who wouldn't to find one so lovely as Sir Thomas in bed with them. Did he really want to wake the man and embarrass him further ? Surely, the baronet would never forgive him.

That was when the rest of Thomas tensed and a, "Huh ?" followed. Another more uncomfortable noise before the other tried getting out of the bed without an excess amount of touching.

Yet as soon as Thomas left he noticed just how warm the man's body was, he couldn't help a whimpered, "Thomas."

It stopped the black-clad hips near instantaneously and he expected Thomas to insult him. Instead it was a curious, "Alan ?" then teasingly, "What do you want...whom ?"

Mother would have disowned him for saying, "Fuck me, Thomas." However, he didn't think Mother would ever find out.

The floor creaked before Thomas whispered in a rougher tone, "Are you sure, Alan ?"

Nervously, he opened his eyes to gasp at the covered length that was inches from his face. Somehow, he managed to look past that to see those abdominals rippling smoothly, there was no surprise in this for the baronet. Cautious he reached up to do a test stroke and immediately released when Thomas's hips twitched slightly.

Thomas slid to rest behind him again, teeth nipped his throat though soothing kisses followed. "Let me teach you."

His breath caught, cock half-hard when a hand deftly opened his pants and wrapped around him in a tight, slow stroke. Instinctively, he thrust back against the gently rolling hips, watching the pale fingers circle his head in fascination. This he already knew wouldn't last long as groans built trying to escape, "Ah, Thomas."

Annoyance filled him when Thomas stilled completely saying, "Ssh, do you know what would happen if my sister found out ?"

"I...don't care."

That hand slid down his shaft to cup his testicles, "Rather fond of these, aren't we ?"

A gentle rubbing as he tried to escape the pressure, "God, yes, oh-h, umph."

"Lucille is quite handy with a knife, I'm rather more skilled at other things. Now, be good, Alan and come."

"Fuck, Thomas, fuck." Pleasure rushed through his body, his senses dulling while his eyes fluttered shut.

For some reason, the black-haired man let go and moved away. Lethargic as he was, he rolled over to watch how Thomas's breath quickened into soundless gasps and pretty shudders with rough strokes until he collapsed spent.

He leaned over to press a swift kiss to Thomas's lips, it was that and not the actual hand job that had him flushing. They cleaned up, got dressed then left. It became a regular occurrence.


End file.
